


My Way Home is Through You

by bullpavus (talksmaths)



Series: Love in the Time of Chaos [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Arranged Marriage, Curses, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homophobia, Infidelity, M/M, More tags to be added, Plot Deviance, Slavery, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talksmaths/pseuds/bullpavus
Summary: After being sold into slavery to pay her family's debt, a young elf woman is purchased as the personal slave of one young Sir Pavus. The secrets she finds within its walls all but pale in comparison to the news of a temple destroyed in a nearby village.





	1. Chapter 1

Madd can pretend this isn’t happening until she see hears the cry.

Even through the cage bars, she can see a small boy, maybe four years old, crying and reaching through the bars of his own cage towards a tearful woman--his mother, surely. She reaches up into the cage to comfort him, but a soldier strikes her and she falls. The child screams louder, and the soldier, annoyed, punches him through the bars, the kid drops, head striking the wooden floor with a sickening thud. Madd feels her hands grow warm, but she forces them into fists, staring down the soldier though he does not look her way.

Her cage is being carried away from the scene. In her own cage there is a man and woman, holding each other, whispering comforts to each other.

Perhaps they will not be separated. When the boy comes to, maybe he won’t cry anymore when he realizes he is far, far, far from his mother.

There is no one at the auction to cry over her. It does not make her feel less hollow.

Suddenly they stop and are drug out, a soldier grabbing each of them by the chains between their wrists. They are placed atop a stage, and their audience is bidders. Madd wants to kick out the teeth of every human putting a price on their lives.

She is the first to sell.

A man walks toward the stage after giving the auctioneer some coin--she didn’t catch how much. He raised his hand to strike her; she did not flinch. He grinned, and it made Madd sick.

  
  
  
  


It is an hours-long journey inside a cage in which she now sits alone. When they arrive, she is greeted by a foreboding castle. The man--Halward Pavus, as she learned from the auctioneer--grabs her chains and leads her inside. Before Halward can say anything, they hear a scream coming from upstairs. Madd looks to Halward, and he shakes his head. He leads her, grabbing the chain from between her wrists, up to a bedroom.

Inside, Madd catches someone jumping out of the window, landing with an  _ oof  _ outside, and bare footsteps running away. Halward does not seem to notice, nor notice the look of embarrassment the young man is trying to hide by acting nonchalant--even with a broken arm. Halward directs his attention to taking the chains off of Madd.

“Dorian, this is the newest slave.  _ Your  _ newest slave.”

Dorian swallows, looking toward his father. Surely he knew the reason behind her purchase.

Halward shoves a bag into Madd’s stomach before shoving her toward his son. “Lucky I brought a healer home the day you break your damn arm.”

Dorian shrugs, holding his arm gently. “We can’t all be blessed with grace and balance all the time.”

Halward says nothing before slamming the door behind him.

Dorian lets out a sigh of relief. He raises his hand and twists his wrists slightly, closing the window by magic. He sits at a table, outstretching his arm. Madd sits in the chair opposite him before placing the contents of her bag on the table to examine them.

“‘Madd’? That’s not a very elven name.”

She doesn’t look up.

“Alright, fair enough,” he concedes. “What--”

“How on earth am I supposed to heal a fucking arm broken in two places with elfroot and--whatever the hell else all this is?” she demands.

Dorian gives a low whistle. “How ornery for someone without the namesake injury.”

Madd’s head shoots up and she stares down Dorian. “You’re not the one who was just purchased at a slave auction six fucking hours ago.”

Dorian’s demeanor gives way to a serious albeit embarrassed one underneath. “I apologize,” he says softly. Madd says nothing but tends to his arm.

“Do you have anything I could set this with?”

Dorian nudges his head toward a bedside table. She is insulted he does not get it himself, but then feels how sore her wrists are from the shackles. She feels smallness wash over as she stands. The drawers are deep and full so she has to rifle through them. After she grabs to pieces of wood and a long strip of cloth, she feels something behind her. She turns to see a wall of snow and ice flying toward her, and she closes her eyes, flinching, one hand outstretched.

She hears water fall by her feet, the crack of flame, and looks. The ice melted into a puddle between them.

“Wonder how he missed  _ that _ ,” Dorian commented.

Madd brings the materials to the table, working diligently, though not as gently as she could. “I did not want to be revealed as a mage. I wanted to be a healer through more earthly abilities.”

“But how did you disguise it from him? How were you able to hide your magic from everyone up until me?”

Dorian’s eyes are bright and inquisitive, not demanding. He seems more eager to learn than to punish. It almost looks like trust to her.

“That’s not your business. I’m here to heal you--”

She struggles keeping the wood set and tying the cloth. Dorian uses magic to tie it up tightly, wincing.

Madd removes her hands, turning them to put her things back in the pouch.

“You must know why you’re here, yes?”

Madd does not look up. “I assume it has to do with the half-naked man running for fear of being seen by your father.”

Dorian gives a low chuckle. “You’re more attentive than I thought. You’re right. My father does not approve of my...desires.”

Madd looks up. Dorian leans back in his chair.

“He assumed that if he bought me a pretty enough slave, I’d get out of this phase. If I had a woman to bed, I wouldn’t need to resort to sneaking men in through my window.”

Madd sets a steely face. “I will not be your sex slave.”

Dorian shakes his head. “Nor do I want you to be.”

Madd squints.

“As far as I am concerned,” Dorian says, “what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. You have to tend to my dressings; if you provide the illusion of lover along with healer, he’ll leave you alone.”

“And just how exactly do I do that?”

Dorian shrugs, smiling. “Well, I guess we can figure that out as we go along.” He stands, showing Madd to the door.

“Have a good evening. I am sure I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He winks before closing the door behind him, and Madd feels more confused than anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

In the servants’ quarters, Madd is assigned an upper bunk. Its counterpart belongs to a young elven woman named Varellan.

All the servants were elves, which was not surprising. There were maybe thirty in all, ranging all ages and roughly an even amount of men and women. Varellan seemed to be Madd’s age, perhaps younger--maybe still in her late teens. Her hair is black, intricately braided and sat atop her head. It made Madd self-conscious of her perpetual white rats’ nest.

Madd placed her pouch in the trunk at the end of the beds. She was about to climb up to her bed when Varellan patted the bed next to her and offered her a cup of tea.

“Uh, I’m kind of--”

“I insist,” she said softly yet sternly. “I know it’s not much, but welcome. I’m Varellan Riflosa.”

“Madd Ceranadin,” she said, accepting the mug.

“I hear you are to be Sir Dorian’s personal servant,” she said warily. Madd nodded, sipping. “How are things going?”

Madd swallowed. “You mean my first day of slavery? Fan-fucking-tastic, thanks.”

Varellan shifted uncomfortably. “It is not so bad. It is safe, at least.”

Madd feels anger rise in her, but she doesn’t have the energy to fight about the principles of slavery. She gives her mug back and climbs up to her bed wordlessly, fidgeting with the ends of her robes and trying not to think too much about her situation.

  
  
  
  
  


Madd returns to Dorian’s room to retighten the splint and apply salve for the pain. She knocks and he calls for her to enter. She sees him at the table near his window, reading a book on necromancy. She can’t contain her disgust, which makes Dorian laugh.

“We can’t all be pyros,” he says. He sets down his book and Madd retakes her familiar seat.

“Halward does realize that a broken arm can’t be fixed in a few days, right?”

“Of course,” Dorian says. “But he thinks that the more time we spend together, the more likely you’ll rub off on me.”

Madd makes her disgusted face again, and Dorian laughs harder.

“What, have you never had a family member who’s completely insufferable?”

Madd chews her lip, saying nothing. Dorian sobers up.

“Family is never easy,” he says. He pulls his book closer to him, sitting back in his chair and aimlessly drawing patterns on the cover. “I am...betrothed, actually.”

Madd cocks an eyebrow.

“Arranged marriage,” he explains. “I’m the only heir to carry on the Pavus name. My father found another wealthy family with a daughter and what must be a hefty dowry, and so it’s done. All but the ceremony itself.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asks.

Dorian looks down, out the window, and then to the book. “It’s...shitty.”

“Eloquent.”

He smirks, but doesn’t look up. “I get to live with a wife who detests me, have children who resent me, and be a traitor to myself. It’s my fate, but I could ignore it up until now. It used to be too far away and I could fuck who I wanted with no consequences.”

“You sure?” Madd pokes at his arm and he winces, pulling it close to him.

“This is nothing compared to living a false life,” Dorian says. “I would break every bone in--I--I would give anything to not have to live a life so torn.” Dorian drops his head and digs his fingers into his scalp. “My father says he’s acting in my best interest, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter, even if he is. I’ll still die unhappy, just to carry on his fucking legacy.”

Madd says nothing. Dorian sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms before looking back up at her.

“I am sorry, Madd. You do not deserve to hear my distress.”

Dorian throws his book across the room. The spine snaps against the brick before dropping to the floor. Madd looks at Dorian. He is small, drowning in his decadent robes. His face is knotted by fear, anger, and devastation. This is a man with a name heavier than he can carry on his shoulders, and his knees are threatening to give out.

She stands, and walks across the room.

“I am the oldest of nine,” Madd says. “My family lives in the wilderness of the Hinterlands, where our house has only the company of trees and fennecs. My father fought for Fereldan before meeting my mother in a bar, where she was a barmaid. My father says he fell in love with her instantly; my mother says he fell on his ass drunk in front of her, but it was profound nonetheless. My family owns a farm, where my siblings and I all worked. My mother passed on her herbalism knowledge to me.”

Madd picked up Dorian’s book, flattening the pages. He finally raises his head at her pause.

“My father had an old debt he tried to hide. The debt collectors said he either paid, or he died. I convinced them to put me in the slave trade if they waived his debt.” Madd handed the book back to Dorian. “And here we are.”

Dorian took it with both hands, wincing, and setting it gently on the table.

“Thank you,” Dorian said softly. She turns to leave, but Dorian grabs her hand and presses something inside.

  
  
  


 

 

_ She can hear her brother crying in the distance--down the hill, by the creek. Madd runs down, fearing the worst: what if he fell, hurt his leg? What if a bear found him? What if-- _

_ "Madd! Help!” _

_ She missteps and slips the last three feet down the hill, crashing into Ferlon. “What? What’s wrong?” _

_ Ferlon points to the other side of the creek. She takes his hand and they cross together. His hand wet from tears and snot, and she tries to hide her grimace. _

_ Beyond the water-shaped stones lies a fennec in the grass. Clearly something made a meal of it; it’s barely much more than fur and bones. And blood. Lots of blood. _

_ Ferlon is wiping his eyes and nose, shuddering through deep, sobby breaths. _

_ “It’s okay, Ferl,” she says. She kneels, looking him in the eyes and holding his shoulders. “I know it’s hard, but everybody has to eat. If the fennec didn’t die, than maybe a bear would have to.” _

_ “W-why can’t they all just eat grass and flowers?” he asks. _

_ “Do you?” _

_ He shakes his head. _

_ “It’s part of nature. It’s the same way Da gets ram meat for us.” _

_ Ferl’s eyes widen and he starts crying even harder. Madd sighs before scooping him and carrying him back to the house. He stops crying by the time they reach the top of the hill. _

_ “Look, Ferl, we can hold a little service for him, okay? Come sit next to me.” Madd pats the grass next to her as she sits, both with their legs crossed. “Tell the fennec something.” _

_ Ferl hesitates, steadying his breath. “I’m happy a bear got to eat.” He thinks for a minute. “I hope we eat the bear.” _

_ Madd sighs, but this time it’s not without a smile. She ruffles his hair and he swats her arm away. _

_ “C’mon, bud. We got to eat too, now.” _

  
  


 

 

 

Madd awakens in her bunk with tears in her eyes and weight pressing down on her chest. She feels for the key under her pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ow! Fuck, fuck.”

Madd hisses in a breath, clutching her knee. Okay, so she didn’t exactly remember where the stairs started. She shakes out her leg and conjures small pinpricks of sunlight on her fingers. With her hand raised above and out, she can light her way up the grand staircase and up to Dorian’s quarters.

Madd can see flickering candlelight under the door as she unlocks the door. Perhaps he forgot to extinguish the flame--and he called  _ her  _ a pyro.

She gently pushes the door open to find Dorian sitting by an open window. His table is shoved against the wall and he is sitting on top of it, back against the wall. His face is partially illuminated by the small candle on his bedside table and the fire that dances on one of his hands. He is watching the flames on his fingers sway to the summer night’s breeze as she enters. He turns his head to her and pats the table in front of him, in front of the window. She climbs up and joins him.

In the middle of the table is a book. Not for studies, however; one of stories.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I should ask you the same.”

Dorian grins, but it’s clear he’s exhausted. “I fill my days studying. I think I deserve nights to read for pleasure.”

Madd pulls the book closer to her.  _ Twelve Stories of Love and Loss.  _ She looks to him for explanation.

“I think I deserve to be entertained by fiction as well.”

Madd flips through the pages, finding his bookmark in the midst of a story entitled  _ Forbidden Fruit _ . “How did Halward permit this in his library?”

“He didn’t, of course,” Dorian says. He has one knee to his chest, the other leg stretched straight out, beside Madd. His injured arm is in his lap and his other hand on the window sill, flames still flickering. He’s relaxed; he’s not trying to take the book back, or hide it. Why does he trust her so much, and so easily?

“You should sleep,” Madd says. “Save your reading for when you have free time.”

“Secrecy does not allow for such leisure,” he explains, eyes turning to look at his illuminated hand. “And I cannot find anything worth pursuing that is devoid of shame.”

After a moment Dorian turns to look back at Madd. He holds his hand toward her, vertical, and Madd presses her hand to his. The fire doesn’t feel like burning on her fingers, but gentle warmth instead. Her wrist and hands felt heavy with magic.

“My betrothed and her parents are coming tom--well, today,” Dorian explains. “It’s the beginning of the end.”

“You’re not being executed,” Madd laughs.

“That would be preferable.”

Madd feels horror and regret wash over her in an ice-cold wave. The room becomes darker; her hand extinguishes.

“The only times I can be true to my own heart is under the cover of darkness, in between shadows. My fate seals my misery. I can no longer live with any kind of authenticity.”

The stars shine brighter now as they are more strongly contrasted to the darkness of the sky and Dorian’s quarters. She wonders if he feels just as small and insignificant.

“Have you ever been in love, Madd?”

Dorian’s eyes are inquisitive again, searching again.

Madd shakes her head, careful not to break eye contact despite her knotting stomach.

“Me neither,” Dorian says softly. “Love does not exist for people like me. There is no honor or dignity for people like me.”

Madd doesn’t know how to respond.

Dorian jumps off the table, shutting the window behind him, and sits on his bed. “There is not much time before morning, but you are welcome to stay, if you wish. I’m sure the servant beds are not comfortable, and the rumors will appease my father.”

Madd turned to face Dorian, looking down at him from the table. “You are a queer man, Dorian Pavus.”

For the first time in what seems like the year the night has been, he beams. He by far outshines his candle.

“Here,” Dorian says as he ignites the fireplace at the foot of the bed. It’s wide and there are a mountain of blankets on top. As she joins him, she discovers plain robes, which Dorian tears from her hands and stuffs in a drawer, muttering something about laundry. No amount of magic in all of Thedas could hide the blush growing across his face.

“For the love of all things good and holy in this world,” Dorian says, “ _ please _ let me braid your hair. I can’t imagine how you can handle it being a rats’ nest.”

“What all is holy in this world to you?” she asks, turning her back to Dorian.

“I will admit I am not strictly Andrastian, but my beliefs lie somewhere within, I suppose. Have you ever heard of a comb?”

“Stop ripping,” Madd barks. “It hides my knife-ears.”

“Don’t hide them,” Dorian says.

“Thank you for the advice, wealthy human.”

Dorian exhales, frustrated.

“Next time you’re a poor slave, we can talk about hiding parts of ourselves we can’t change.”

Dorian is quiet for a moment before whispering an apology.

“For the record, Dorian,” Madd says, gathering the braids into a bun above her head, “I do not believe in fate, nor Andraste, nor the Maker. I do not know exactly what I believe, but I do not think we are pawns in a game for suffering and dramatics. I do not believe in a god; I believe in the power of ourselves.”

Madd does not turn back to face Dorian before letting the comfort of the fire and blankets pull her under into sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

“You are making a huge mistake, Madd Cerenadin.”

Varellan watched the elder elf try to decide what spices to put into the soup. “I’m more used to medicinal herbs.”

“No,” Varellan says. She reaches for a pouch Madd glanced over, sprinkling some of its contents inside. “Not this. You and Sir Dorian.”

Madd froze.

“Oh, yeah. That.”

“Mm.” Varellan took the pouch from Madd’s hand and replaces it with something else. “It is not wise to meddle with him.”

“‘Meddle’?”

“Do not make me clarify myself,” Varellan says. “And do not fall for him. It is a mistake to fall in love with him.”

“And why is that?” Madd decides to go along with her false deductions.

Varellan snatches the pouch from Madd’s hand to stop her from putting more in the soup. “Because at the end of the day you are a slave. We are all slaves.” Varellan puts a lid on the pot. “Whatever he may tell you, you are not the first of us to find the warmth of his bed.”

Madd watches Varellan cross the kitchen to prepare August Ram meat with Banhair, the head chef. They speak to each other, and Madd can’t hear them.

  
  
  
  
  


Varellan and Banhair were apparently also aware that the evening’s visitors were the family of Dorian’s betrothed. Banhair thrust a set of robes into Madd’s stomach, which matched her companions’. Evidently, they were dress robes--nothing in comparison to the lay clothes of the family, but neater than rags. 

Within the kitchen was a bell on the wall near the door to the dining hall. When it dinged, Madd helped deliver the food into the center of the table. At the head was Halward; at the opposite end was the father of the other family. Dorian sat at his father’s right side, his mother beside him. Dorian’s betrothed sat across him, and her mother across from his own. As Madd placed the last of the meal at the table, Banhair tripped her when she turned away from the table. Dorian watched, frowning as Madd stumbled loudly, but didn’t fall. She retreated back to the kitchen.

Banhair and Varellan began on the dishes, and Madd knew it wasn’t volunteering to do dirty work so much as it was a way to separate themselves from her. When the bell rang again not an hour later, they nonverbally ordered her to deliver more drinks to the table. Madd watched the ground carefully; she heard Banhair snort.

“--can attest to that, yes?”

Halward looked at Madd with forced politeness. Madd turned her head, silently asking him to repeat himself.

“You can attest to the fact that certain rumors surrounding Dorian are falsified, yes?”

Madd looked at Dorian, but he looked away. He sat back in his seat and looked across the table, but his betrothed was watching Madd. She had not expected jealousy to come from this.

_ Ah, shit. _

“Y-yes, sir,” Madd muttered as she placed drinks at the table. She worked her way around the table, careful not to stand too close to Dorian.

“Good girl,” he said, and Madd felt rage and shame knot her stomach, turning it with nausea. “But it is nothing for you to worry about, Therese. Surely you understand that.”

Madd looked at the young woman. Blonde hair fell in lush curls around her shoulders, and her blue eyes disappeared behind long, fluttering lashes. She wasn’t the enemy; she was hurt by this as well. Madd felt sorry for her.

“Surely,” Therese muttered.

Madd looked at Dorian from behind his father, looking for an answer, a cue. Therese’s eyes were heavy with sadness as she looked at Dorian.

“I promise you, Madame Therese, that it is not  _ surely  _ not quite as it seems,” Dorian said. His voice was thick with mockery, but no one seemed to catch it but Halward, who grew steely.

“Dorian--”

“In fact, though I can assure you Madd here was purchased with intent to dispel these rumors--”

“ _ Dorian! _ ”

Madd watched as Dorian drew his mouth into a thin line. Halward’s breathing was fast and heavy.

“That is enough, son. We are not here to talk about rumors anymore.”

Madd quietly grabbed the empty glasses from the table. As she reached to grab Therese’s, she accidentally spilled her full glass on her.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Madd whispered as she watched her very fucking untimely mistake unfold. Madd couldn’t find anything to give Therese to at least attempt to get the stain from setting into her expensive clothing, and with Halward’s gaze keeping her from leaving the dining room, Madd panicked. “I’m so sorry, Madame Therese, I promise it was an accident.”

“It’s quite--”

She took off the topmost draped cloth off herself--it was decorative anyway--and put it in Therese’s lap.

She didn’t think twice about it until she heard Dorian gasp. When Madd looked up, Halward was almost red in the face and Dorian almost white. Halward snapped his fingers at Madd and pointed to the kitchen. She quickly grabbed the rest of the empty glasses and left. She waited in the kitchen for another ring that never came.

  
  
  
  
  


Madd did not leave the kitchen until Varellan and Banhair did--they were still refusing to talk to her, so she had to follow their cue in order to not mess up again. She shut the kitchen door behind her and headed down the stairs to the slaves’ quarters, looking forward to a few moments of peace so she could gather her bag and see Dorian. ‘Draste, what we he going to say about dinner? Hopefully he wouldn’t be--

In one swift movement, Madd is scrambling against the wall, heels kicking. Her hands are clamped around Halward’s arm. She can’t breathe.

“If you ever-- _ ever _ \--embarrass my family name like that again, I will end you.”

Halward shoves her against the wall. Warmth bleeds through the back of her head and stars cloud her vision.

“You are nothing but a knife-eared slave and your corpse will be great fertilizer.”

He drops Madd and she crumples to the floor like a doll.

“I’m waiting for you to give me a fucking reason.”

He kicks her in the ribs, hard, before walking up the stairs. Madd can't stop the tears welling in her eyes or the blood pooling in her cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

Madd manages to suck in a few deep breaths and climb to her knees. She wipes the tears from her eyes and swallows the blood, throat thick. Adrenaline makes her hands and arms shaky, hard to control, like they’re foreign. She manages to clamor to her feet, and when she looks up, she sees Dorian.

“I--I’m sorry,” Dorian mutters. There is a foot between them, but it feels like a wall. “I had no idea he would do this to you.”

Madd, breathing heavily, says nothing. Half her mouth feels numb and throbs, and her arm aches where she caught herself.

“Here, let me--”

Dorian reaches toward Madd, toward her arm, but she pulls it closer to her. She looks at him with wide, open eyes. Pain wracks and bleeds through her body and she feels both so in the moment and every action it’s dizzying and so beside herself it’s pathetic. Realization washes over and her thoughts threaten to drown her.

Her only friend in the world let her get beat half to death. She may never see her family again.

She’s going to die a slave. Alone.

New, sharper tears form in Madd’s eyes and her throat almost closes. Dorian watches her, trying to figure out her thoughts.

He would never understand.

“Madd,” Dorian whispers. “Please. Let me help.”

Madd shakes her head and takes a step back from him. “No. This is all your fault.”

Dorian’s face drops. “Madd--”

“If--if I had never…” Madd’s eyes drop to the floor as she’s lost in thought. “I let myself be sold into slavery and let my only friend betray me.”

“Madd, it’s not like that.”

Madd feels anger bubbling inside her, electrifying her pain. “I don’t know why I ever trusted you.”

Dorian’s face grows pinker, embarrassed. “ _ Madd _ \--”

“You could have said nothing. You didn’t have to make him angry. But you couldn’t resist. You had to have the last word.”

Dorian says nothing.

“You don’t care what happens to anyone else. You only care about your image. I tried to do what I could to help you and appease your father just for you to throw it away and risk it on being a smartass.”

Dorian chews on his lower lip. “I promise you I did not mean to hurt you.”

Madd shakes her head slowly. She backs away from and heads toward the slaves quarters, wondering if she can ask Varellan to help her inspect her injuries, maybe set her arm, in the worst fucking possible irony. She almost makes it to the top of the staircase when her headache, dull and thudding from her fall, suddenly grows worse. Maybe it was suddenly, maybe it was her walking that made the full effects of the pain set in. Regardless, Madd’s eyes are blurred with tears and she leans against the wall, closing her eyes and waiting for the worst of the pulsing pain to stop, and she can’t help but cry. She slides to the ground again, trying to stifle her sobs. The pain in her chest almost rivals the pain in the rest of her body. She had never felt such fear for her life, such a sudden and immensely deep fear.

She hears someone walk closer to her and stop, sitting on the floor in front of her. She knows it’s Dorian.

“When I was sixteen,” Dorian whispers, “my father found a boy in my bed. It was early one morning, and time had gotten away from us. My father made a scene and he--I don’t even remember his name--left quickly. He then told me how much I was embarrassing the family name, how vile and shameful I was being. He said that this  _ phase  _ should be stifled and secret, and I said I would never do that.” Dorian paused for a moment, swallowing. “He did not strike me, but he sent magic through my body so intense I collapsed for several hours. It was like an explosion from the inside out. I thought my bones would burst through my skin.”

Madd says nothing. She watches him, but Dorian doesn’t look up from the floor between them.

“I promised myself I would never be anything less than myself. And then I realized I would die here before that ever happened.” Dorian looks up at Madd, eyes wet. “I understand why you don’t trust me. I trust you because you are the most honorable person I have ever met.”

Madd blinks, taken aback. “What?”

Dorian pulls his knees to his chest, drawing himself inward. “You have no reason to be as nice to me as you did,” he says softly, slowly, letting it drip out of him. “I can never imagine being a slave or being an elf or even growing up poor and being in a big family. I know I must be...lofty and appalling to you, but you gave me respect nonetheless. Or at least the illusion of it. And it is very honorable,” he says. “Beyond both being mages I feel like we are kindred spirits.”

Madd’s eyes waver, trying to figure out where the truth in his words lie. She almost feels the ground shake beneath her when she realizes the man whispering across from her has bared his heart to her. She wonders if he knows just how kindred spirits they really are. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Dorian says. “You don’t have to. I just wanted you to know,” he explains. “I don’t know anyone who would give up their life for their family. I know I never would,” he laughs sardonically.

Dorian’s cheeriness fades when Madd remains quiet. He lets his fingers ignite and he watches them. “I know I can be conceited. I understand why you feel betrayed. But I never, ever wanted you to get hurt. You are my closest and dearest friend and I would die for you before anyone.”

Madd uses her uninjured hand to rest in the air above Dorian’s, taking some of the fire from his hand and ignited her own. He watches this and smiles deeply, eyes shining.

Dorian gets to his feet and offers his hand to Madd. She reaches up, but is struck by another massive headache. She presses her knuckles into her skull in attempt to relieve the pressure.

“Do you want me to get a healer?” Dorian whispers, crouching down again. He puts his hand on her shoulder. She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. Colors flash in front of her eyes, dizzying and too fast to follow.

“Let me help you,” Dorian says. “Please.” He helps Madd to her feet and she pries her eyes open, squinting like he’s the sun. Her shoulders feel tight and tense from the tension in her neck, but she nods.

  
  
  
  
  


Dorian takes Madd to his room and lets her lie down. She rests her arm against her forehead, pressing down to alleviate or at least mask the pressure. 

“Do you think he did this?” she asks.

Dorian stands over her. “What?”

Madd swallows, closing her eyes for a few moments. “This isn’t a regular headache. I’ve been thrown from horses and gotten in fights. There’s something else going on.”

Dorian chews his lower lip. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”

Madd sits up, but she grabs the sheet, fisting it. She feels like she could melt off the bed. Dorian gently pushes her back down. “I’ll go inspect the library. Just wait here. I’ll be quick.”

Madd nods, furrowing her brow. She falls into a non restful half-sleep and can’t tell if Dorian was gone for a minute or an hour before he returns again. She doesn’t open her eyes, but she hears him drop books on his table.

“I did some reading in the library, and it looks like you may need to use magic,” he explains. “I can help as well, but it needs to come from the inside out.”

“What is ‘it,’ exactly?” Madd groans.

Dorian hesitates. “I don’t know. But it seems to be like a parasite.”

Madd swallows down the fear threatening to crawl up her throat and out her mouth. “S-so what do I need to do?”

Dorian sits at the foot of the bed, book in his lap. His injured hand holds the book open and follows lines while he holds up his uninjured one. “Focus on your energy coming from a deep point within you, and imagine it pushing out the darker energy. I will try to help pull it out.”

Madd sits up and nods. Dropping her head so her chin is at her chest, she pictures her energy as white starting as a small ball at the bottom of her lungs. She imagines it filling brighter and brighter with every breath. When it has filled from her chest down to her feet, she imagines it absorbing the dark energy in her head. She can feel her head almost grow heavier, but at the moment Dorian attempts to pull it out, she can’t stifle a scream. She covers her mouth with her hand and her eyes shoot open, silently imploring Dorian for help.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s like pulling a tooth. It hurts a lot before it gets better.”

Madd swallows and nods. “Then keep pulling it.”

Dorian’s brow furrows. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Are  _you_ sure this is the best way to do it?”

“Yes,” Dorian says solemnly, looking down at the book in his lap. “We could try finding other mages or potions, but there’s no guarantee, nevermind how long it could take. My reading says extraction is the best way.”

Madd takes a deep breath. “Then do it,” she says. “Don’t stop until it’s out. Please,” she begs. “I trust you.”

Dorian chews on his lower lip. “Lie down,” he instructs. He motions for her to move toward the middle of the bed. In case she thrashes, she realizes. He holds his injured hand above her head and feels his other hand take one of hers, squeezing hers gently. She closes her eyes, inviting him to begin the extraction.

She screams, arching her back upwards. She could swear Dorian could have been pressing down on her skull with his full weight, fingers wrapping around her head. Her hand feels a mile away in Dorian’s, just a mass of muscle behind bone. She hopes she doesn’t break his hand, but it’s the only thing grounding her from the pain. Just as she feels like her eyes will pop, she loses consciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

To her utmost surprise, Madd awakens, not dead.

“Bless the fucking Maker.”

Madd takes a deep breath and sits up. Her body aches--mostly her face, arm, and hip, from the fall after Halward dropped her. But her head feels fine, just cloudy and groggy.

Madd blinks and looks around Dorian’s room. She swallows and realizes she’s parched and starving. She looks out the window and sees the sun has yet to rise. “What time is it?”

“About seven in the morning,” Dorian says. “Three days into the future, for you.”

Madd blinks, eyes wide. “ _ What _ ? I was out that long?”

Dorian nods, motioning to the water and bread on the bedside table near her. “My father came down soon after you lost consciousness, after he heard you scream. He thought you were dead.”

“Me being alive must be much to his disappointment.”

Dorian purses his lips. As Madd reaches for food, she can see Dorian’s hands in his lap. One of them is tightly wound.

“Did I do that?” she whispers.

Dorian nods, holding it up. “You popped two fingers out of their sockets and broke my ring finger.”

“Fuck,” Madd says, looking at her own sore but unhurt hand. “I’ll explain it to Therese, then.”

Dorian shakes his head. “Her family left the morning after the dinner. I think it’s safe to assume the wedding will be pushed back.”

Madd takes a ravenous bite of the bread loaf, making Dorian laugh. “Was there a date set?”

“No, but the middle of fall for sure,” he explains. “Summers are too hot for so many layers, and snow too treacherous for horses, especially here.”

Madd takes a drink. “Here? The wedding will be here?”

Dorian nods, examining his hand. “Tradition. My mother has been planning decorations since the engagement. She was most upset that my hand might not heal in time for the wedding.”

Madd watches his face grow more somber.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Don’t be. I don’t know if she wants this anymore than me, but it doesn’t matter either way. It’s happening regardless.”

“Is Halward going to kill me for real, then?”

Dorian looks almost ashamed by her question. “I don’t think so. But after the events of the dinner, he no longer wants you as my healer.”

Madd’s face pales. “Oh.”

“He planted that parasitic curse because he apparently knew you are a mage,” Dorian explains. “Since you managed to purge it, he wants you to study under him.”

Madd is disbelieving. “As an apprentice?”

“Not as such. He wants you away from me and in his study instead. I think he just wants to watch you more closely.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten rid of that thing if it weren’t for you,” Madd says.

Dorian shakes his head. “I helped pull it out. You were strong enough to stay together afterward. It could have killed you.”

“Wow, thank you for telling me that now. Really comforting.”

Dorian shrugs. “It’s true, though. For having almost no magic training, you shouldn’t have survived that. He just wants to examine you.”

Madd swings her legs off the bed and stands up. Her legs feel weak, leaden with disuse. “He tried to kill me after you cause a scene, and now I’m a test subject. Great.”

Dorian swallows, uncomfortable. “I do not have much say in the matter, but he has no idea I gave you a copy of my key. You may visit me as you wish,” he offers.

Madd barks a laugh. “You’re right! I’m definitely risking having my head burst open like a fucking melon so you can braid my hair and read me stories. That’s definitely safe for me, thank you  _ so  _ much for the offer.”

Dorian pales. Madd places the key on his bedside table before leaving. “I am grateful for you, but I’m not an idiot.” She closes the door behind her and traverses the meandering hall until she arrives at Halward’s study. She raises her knuckle to knock but hesitates. For the first time in three days-- _ three days _ \--she’s going to see the man who tried to murder her. Alone. In his private, isolated quarters.

When she finally gives a tentative knock, Halward pulls the door open with magic. His desk is at the back of a long room, walls laden with bookshelves. He does not look up from his writing.

“Begin over there.” He points to the bookcase on his right, nearest him. “Work outward, then inward. Organize everything by subject and author, alphabetically.”

Madd watches him for a moment, waiting for acknowledgement. She gets none. As she approaches the bookcase, she realizes it is not merely lining the walls; they stretch behind, rows reaching back further than she can count. This is mindless busywork.

She looks to Halward one last time, but he doesn’t look up. She begins with the bookcase nearest him, as instructed, shifting books in order. She realizes quickly that most of them are relatively organized, and that Halward is not watching her. She dropped a few books and was not spared a glance, and she uses this opportunity to steal glances through the books that catch her interest the more she reaches further into the room, away from Halward. She manages to read on Mortalitasi, Venatori, Brother Genitivi, the Chantry--nothing she knew anything about. The only one that caught her eye was also the only one that had writing in it. She hears Halward walking and puts the book back, frantically moving to another bookshelf, but he leaves--he wasn’t trying to watch her. After the door shuts she looks at the book again.

_ \--not to be confused with necromancy, this form of-- _

_ \--as any form of manipulation, there are consequences that-- _

_ \--should signs of corruption appear, antidote-like actions are-- _

_ \--completely irreversible, and results-- _

Madd stopped skimming and began reading more slowly:

_ Blood magic is completely irreversible, and results are not always guaranteed, like any discipline of magic. _

Another page, also annotated:

_ All that is necessary is the blood of the target. _

This entire page has scribbles Madd can’t make out, but this line strikes her. This is not purely a book for study; Halward has made notes in it and hasn’t in any of the other books she’s seen. What would Halward want--

Madd’s breath stops in her chest. She drops the book, quietly closes the study door behind her, and sprints to Dorian’s room. She tries the knob but it’s locked.

“Fuck!” Madd whispers. “If I hadn’t given back that fucking key--”

She stops, regaining her thoughts. She grips the knob tightly and imagines fire surrounding her palm and melting the knob. She sucks in a breath when her hand gets burnt, and she kicks the knob down. It falls, but the door is jammed.

“Fuck!” Madd yells. Panic rises within her and she has no idea where to turn next. She doesn’t even know what Halward needs, what he’s already done. She may already be too late.

From behind the door, she hears the drop of a body and the sickening crack of bone on stone. Her stomach plummets.

“Dorian!” she yells, tears threatening to stop her voice in her throat. She kicks the lock repeatedly, and when it still doesn’t budge, she presses two fiery hands against the door until she can’t stand it. The metal is still red when she kicks again, and the door opens. Inside are two bodies motionless inside. She can’t breathe.

She makes her way to Dorian, crumpled near his bed. She pushes his heavy shoulder back so she can see his face. Blood is pooled on the floor, coming from his head. He’s breathing, but his eyes are rolled back in his head. Madd turns Dorian on his back and presses the blanket on the floor near him against the wound to stop the bleeding. She looks him over and can see that his broken arm has been stripped from its bandaging and has a large slice down the center of it, following the vein. She uses part of the same blanket on this wound as well, resting her knee on it so she can use her free hand to wake Dorian up.

“Dorian, please,” Madd whispers. She can hear Halward stirring behind her. She gently slaps Dorian’s cheek, but his head is still limp.

At the sound of metal scraping against stone, Madd stands and looks behind her.

“You do not know what you are doing, slave,” Halward spits. He holds a dagger in his hand. The blood on it still drips. She watches him slip the blade into a vial and seal it before replacing the dagger in its sheath. “You are interrupting his fate.”

“It is not his fate to be changed into something he’s not.”

Halward steps toward her. Madd uses all her willpower and ignores all the common sense telling her to run. Her fists clench at her sides, sparking heat.

“Would you really risk your safety for him?” Halward laughs. “How blind you must be.”

Madd grits her teeth. “I know you are trying to use blood magic.”

“But do you know why?”

Madd can’t help but breathe heavily. “Because you want him to marry Therese.”

Halward shakes his head. “He has been betrothed to her since he was ten years old. Tell me why.”

Madd takes a small step back as Halward steps closer. She can feel Dorian’s shoulder nudge her heel. She takes a deep breath and stares him down, feeling his dark eyes swallow her whole.

“Tell me, slave.”

Madd clenches her hands even tighter, nails digging into palms. “You want him to truly love her. To uphold your image.”

“And maintain respect for the Pavus name.” Halward walks past her and kicks Dorian’s foot. “Something he has yet to do.”

“He is not your pawn.”

“Slave,” Halward says, clamping his hand around the back of her neck, “that is all he will ever be.”

Halward sent lightning through Madd so powerful her knees buckled. She sees stars as her head hits the floor. Her body screams at her not to move, but when she sees Halward grabs Dorian’s arm, she slowly climbs to her knees.

Halward grabs her hair and yanks her head back. She can feel the blade against her throat.

“Would you really risk your worthless life for him, knife-ear?”

Madd swallows. “Yes,” she spits.

Halward fists more of her hair, exposing more of her neck and pulling her line of vision upside-down. The blade is gone, and Madd tenses. She knows she’s going to die. She screws her eyes shut and waits for the end.

Halward’s grip on her hair falters, then loosens completely. She falls on her back and finds Halward motionless again.

“I will never again be your fucking pawn.”

Clutching his arm and looking alarmingly pale, Dorian stands tall over his father. The vial had fallen and Dorian crushes it with his foot, grinding glass and blood into the floor. He looks to Madd and offers his hand, but at seeing it soaked in blood and Dorian’s newfound alarm, she stands on her own.

“Are you all right?” Dorian asks. Madd touches the side of her head. It’ll swell and look like shit, but it’s not bleeding. Not something Dorian can say.

“I’m fine. Sit down,” Madd instructs. Dorian sits on the edge of his bed. She looks at his head wound, and it’s gaping, still bleeding. Madd hastily wraps some torn shreds of blanket around his head to stop the bleeding. His arm isn’t doing much better.

“Let me get another healer. We can--”

“ _ No _ ,” Dorian says, standing. “We need to leave before he regains consciousness, or he’ll kill us.”

“‘We’?” Madd asks.

“I can’t let you die, and I will die like this if I go alone.”

Madd looks down at a limp Halward and back to Dorian. His grey eyes are dark with the gravity of their situation, even darker compared to his sickly colored skin.

Dorian offers his hand. His other hand is pressed into his arm.

She places her hand in his and he beams.

He takes her hand, stands, and quickly makes his way out of the room--as quick as he can with a limp. Before they leave his bedroom he grabs his staff from behind the door and slings it over his back. They go out the main doors and toward the stables. There Madd helps him get on his horse and she climbs on behind him, tightly gripping his waist as the horse takes them far and away from House Pavus.

  
  
  
  
  


When the horse nearly collapses, they stop. There they manage to take cover under a rock precipice, where Madd can reassess Dorian’s wounds, though unfortunately without her herb pouch. 

“The bleeding seems to have stopped, but you need stitches. Try not to disrupt the bandages.”

Dorian nods. He lies down, resting his uninjured arm over his eyes. He pats the grass next to him, inviting her to lie down.

“So, a recap,” Dorian says. “You almost die from a parasitic curse. My father almost uses a blood magic ritual to ‘help’ me, and you almost die again in my defense.”

“It sounds like a lot of close calls.”

“For that, I’m grateful.” Dorian sighs. For the first time all day, Dorian relaxes. Madd feels compelled to do the same.

“Dorian, how did you know your father called you a pawn?”

“I gained consciousness shortly after you found me. I waited for the right moment to overpower my father.”

“How dramatic.”

Dorian laughs.

“I’m sorry, Dorian.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Madd says, looking over at him. “But I’m sorry it ended like this.”

“Us both alive and not there is the best possible ending,” Dorian says. “For the first time in my life I’m free to be myself.”

“And half dead.”

Dorian looks over at her, moving his arm down beside him. “That too. But I’m lucky to be with you. I heard what you said, and--and you didn’t have to. I know you meant it, and it really means a lot.”

“You said you would die for me,” Madd explains. “I would do the same. You are possibly the only person I have left in this world, and I feel honored to know you.”

Dorian waves this away. “Enough with the theatrics. I’m not here to cry.”

Madd grins inwardly. “We might be injured, ill-prepared, alone, and broke, but at least we have each other. I know what I said, but I trust you with my life, and--”

Madd stops as Dorian is dragged out from under the precipice. She crawls out from under it and sees someone kneeling over him, pressing something against him. She tries to stand, but she is forced to the ground, shoulder blades hitting the dirt. She looks up to see bright eyes between sharp elven ears as the woman presses a damp cloth against her mouth. Madd struggles, but with each deep breath she falls deeper and deeper into unconsciousness until she can no longer see the stars above.


	7. Chapter 7

When Madd comes to, her eyes meet the bright blue of a midday sky, but obscured by metal bars. She can’t help but wince at the sudden brightness and the headache from whatever the elf had used to subdue her.

When she sits up, she examines the cage she’s in. It’s not large, but large enough for both her and Dorian to lay down in. The latter was still unconscious. Madd looks at the elf who had subdued her, watching her sharpen a knife. She has long, dark hair and dark eyes that illuminate brightness in a way elven eyes always did, even if the thoughts behind them were less than glorious. As Madd examines the elf and the way she sits on her stump, the elf grows uncomfortable and looks away. The erratic rhythm of her sharpening is the only noise around them, until the tent flap opens.

The elf is sitting between two large tents. From the one on her right emerges an enormous grey figure with an eyepatch, scar-laced skin, and a wide set of horns. Madd feels like she’s in some kind of nightmare, or maybe the Fade; she had always heard tales of the qunari people, but never thought they were real, or that maybe all the descriptions she had heard were exaggerated, but clearly not.

At his full height, the qunari rivals the height of the cage. As he steps closer, Madd slinks toward the furthest back corner of the cage. But he’s not interested in her--he’s more closely examining Dorian.

The qunari says something to the elf in a language she doesn’t understand. He gives Madd one last look before saying something into the tent on the left and retreating to the right one momentarily. The entire tenants of the tents emerge: a dwarf, humans, and elves, and, at last, another qunari--but this one, a woman. She was slightly shorter but strong in a more feminine way than the qunari man. Where his horns were horizontal, hers curled back behind her, like rams’ horns. Her hair was pulled tightly to the back of her head in a bun.

If Madd thought elves had bright eyes, they were dull as stones in comparison to hers.

The female qunari also approached the cage, but Madd did not move from her corner. She kicked Dorian’s back in a successful attempt to wake him up. As he stirred, the qunari woman watched them both, but less critically than her male counterpart. She had much kinder eyes and a more relaxed demeanor.

“Ah, shit.”

Dorian, squinting through his headache, was now sitting up as well.

“This is definitely him,” said the male qunari. His voice rumbled out of his chest, and he had a southern accent, unlike hers and Dorian’s.

“What do we do with the elf, then?” asked the elven woman who had captured her. She refused to meet Madd’s furious eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” said the qunari. “We--”

“Of course it matters,” said the qunari woman. “She was a slave; we can’t leave her for dead out here.”

The qunari male rolled his eyes. “There’s no reward for her anyway.”

“Reward?” Dorian asks. “Has word really traveled that quickly of my disappearance?”

The male qunari refuses to address him, but his female counterpart does. “You don’t exactly blend in. We didn’t need to know who you were; we knew you were rich and most likely missed.”

“How flattering,” Dorian grumbles. “So you take me back and get your money. How I do admire your capitalistic venture.”

The male qunari approached the cage, pushing the female away. He grabbed Dorian’s robes and pulled him flush against the bars. “You are lucky you’re only wanted alive,” he growled. When he lets go, Dorian is slow to retreat to sitting.

Madd notices the lock of the cage rests by the corner she is sitting in. As the rest of the troupe confers out of their earshot, Madd puts an arm behind her and places a hand on the lock. She watches carefully so no one notices her using magic as a key. When it unlocks, she carefully lowers it to the ground with the same magic. Their backs are turned, the door needs only to be pushed open. Dorian was flustered by the threat and hadn’t been watching her.

This was her chance.

Madd kicks the door open, jumps down, and lets fire cover her hands. Everyone turns to look at her simultaneously.

“I won’t let you take him.”

He takes three large steps toward him, but she is too immobilized by fear to move. He laughs.

“Don’t make this difficult,” he says. “We take him back, get our payment, and move on. We don’t want to shed blood.”

Madd swallows, looking up at him, not giving up her place. She clenches her fists at her sides. “You will have to spill mine before you take him back.”

He laughs again, even when Madd raises her enflamed hands at him. He passes her and grabs Dorian out from the cage like a cornered nug. The others are watching her, but not frightened. She watches as the qunari grabs Dorian and attempts to chain his wrist to the outside of the cage.

“Maybe your little slave will die for you after all,” he laughs.

Without a moment of hesitation, Madd runs behind the dark haired elf, steals the dagger from her hand, and presses it against her throat. With her other hand, she has the elf’s wrists held together. She kicks the elf in the crook of her knees so Madd has a height advantage on her.

The male qunari is no longer laughing.

“Why are you so protective of him?” he asks. “How brainwashed are you?”

Madd grits her teeth, tightening her grip on the elf’s wrists. “I am  _ not _ brainwashed. I am  _ not _ a slave.”

Madd was too distracted by her own plan of action that she neglected to notice the blonde elf had moved position until she had already fallen to her knees.

With the arrow in her shoulder, Madd drops her grip of the dagger and her captive elf. The head is too far into her flesh to pull it out effortlessly; she tries and stops, screaming. She looks at Dorian, who is having shackles chained to his wrists, ankles, and throat, threaded through the bars of the cage.

From behind her, the female qunari approaches the male and pulls him aside. They talk, then yell, then talk again in a language Madd can’t understand. After several minutes, they return.

“Stitches, help her,” the qunari woman orders. Madd is pushed onto her back by a human before he puts his foot on her chest and rips the arrow out. Madd screams and her robes feel heavier and much more full of blood. The man moves away the robes and begins tending to her wound. From this sideways angle, Madd watches as the qunari woman forces the male to free Dorian from his shackles. She kneels on the ground and meets Madd’s eyes.

“I’m sorry this escalated,” she says. Her voice is deep and she has a southern accent, but not as thick as the male qunari’s. “We are a mercenary group. We heard the young Pavus had run away, and there was a large reward for him. We were looking for an easy job.”

“You can’t take him back!” Madd shouts, which catches the qunari offhand, as she visibly retracts. “He was almost fucking killed by his own fucking family. If you take him back, he’ll die.”

Dorian, rubbing his wrists, nods. He points out the wound on his arm. “Slashed by my own father. Tevinter loves its drama.”

“Chief,” says a man in full armor behind the elf Madd had captured, “what do we do with them?”

The female qunari looks at Dorian briefly before returning to Madd. “You can make a run for it. Or--”

“No ‘or’! No fucking way!” says the qunari male.

The female pays no mind. “Or you can join us.”

Stitches is finishing the bandaging. Madd props herself up on one elbow. “You kidnap us and fucking shot me and ask us to join you? We don’t even know who you fucking are!”

“Then I’ll explain,” she says. From behind Madd, she can hear the groaning of the rest of the troupe. “We’re the Bull’s Chargers, headed by the Iron Bull. “ She motions behind her to the male qunari. “We’re spies, assassins for hire, whatever pays well. And we charge a lot; we’re good at what we do.”

Stitches pulls Madd’s robes up over her shoulder, over the bandage before walking away. “You’ve met Stitches and Bull. I’m Jevo. Skinner was your captive, Dalish was your threat. Krem is the lieutenant, and we’ve also got Grim and Rocky.”

Madd sits up fully, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. She looks to Dorian for some kind of advice, but he doesn’t have any to silently offer.

“If we go with you, will you protect us from others trying to kidnap Dorian?”

Bull says something under his breath and walks away, livid.

“Yes,” Jevo says. “If you can pull your weight, we'll protect you.”

Dorian walks over to Madd and offers an injured hand to help her to her feet. They look at each other and wordlessly agree.

“We’ll join,” Madd says.

In the distance, Bull shouts what must have been an obscenity.

“It’s a long journey back to Skyhold,” Jevo explains. “We’ll have to stop often. I can’t promise safety. But we have supplies.”

Krem makes his way over to Bull, either to explain the situation or try to calm him down. As the others begin to pack up their things, Madd grabs the dagger from the ground, where she had dropped it. Skinner watches as Madd presses the dull side of the blade to her neck, holds a clump of her knotted hair, and flicks her wrist outward. She does this repeatedly until her hair falls over her forehead and no longer reaches her neck. She runs her fingers through it and can feel that it’s chunky and uneven, but she can tuck it behind her ears. It no longer will be a burden. She hands the dagger back to Skinner, who says nothing and sheathes it promptly.

Madd looks down at the white ring around her feet. As the Chargers begin their way, she steps out of it and leaves it all behind.


	8. Chapter 8

Skyhold was a castle nestled between mountains. It was so far away from any other civilization that they could afford to let the refugees mill around the open space within as if it were a town’s commons.  
  
As the Chargers, Dorian, and Madd entered Skyhold, a woman clad in a gold dress approached them. She looked over Madd and Dorian before settling on the qunari behind them, sighing behind a smile.  
  
“Well,” she said, voice sashaying through an Antivan accent, “it’s not really a merc mission if Jevo doesn’t rescue the target.”  
  
Bull began to mutter something, but Jevo elbowed him in the ribs. “We can never have too many mages.”  
  
“Mages?” the woman continued. “Then I must take you at once to meet the Inquisitor, Sir Pavus. You have been on the lips of all of us.” She then looked to Madd, gesturing her to come with. The three left the Chargers behind, and Madd only looked back at Jevo for a moment before following Dorian.  
  
“Your feats have made you most desired, Dorian,” the woman says.   
  
“You’re not the first to say so,” he says.  
  
Madd can’t see the woman’s reaction, but she can imagine the easy, flirty smile. She looks around, examining refugees and injured soldiers, of all races and ages. For a moment, she wants to tuck her hair behind her ears, but then remembers she can’t anymore. She’s too distracted by her surroundings that she didn’t notice the woman had stopped walking—Madd bumped into her, blushing immediately.  
  
“Pardon me,” the woman said, laughing slightly. “And where are my manners! My name is Josephine Montilyet. My diplomacy has fallen by the wayside. We all knew of Dorian, but who are you?”  
  
Madd looks between Dorian and Josephine. She realizes Dorian won’t intrude. Madd is free to identify herself as she pleases.  
  
“Ex-slave and friend,” she says simply. “Dar’banan’abelas Ceranadin, but you can call me Madd.”  
  
Dorian cocks an eyebrow. “That’s certainly more elven.”  
  
“It means ‘never to be sorry.’” Madd can’t help but smile as she continues. “When I was a kid, I didn’t apologize. I just got mad.”

Dorian smiles widely. Josephine smiles politely, unknowing, continuing to lead them to an area in the crook of the stairway. There are some others tending to wounded people, and some look up at Madd.

 “These are our healers,” Josephine explains. “Injured refugees and soldiers are tended to here. From what we have heard, your talents are best suited here.”

 Madd wonders how Josephine had heard of her before their arrival.

As Josephine leaves with Dorian and heads up to the main castle, Madd crouches down, looking through the bags and chests of herbs and other materials. Just as Madd considers speaking to another healer, commotion coming their way grabs their attention.

“From the Approach,” a soldier announces breathlessly, supporting two other soldiers with her arms around their waists. “A damn pack of Maker knows fuck all--”

One of the soldiers falls from her grasp and Madd immediately tends to him. She pulls his hands back from where he’s pressing them against his side, uncovering a deep wound and a puddle of blood. She presses bandaging cloths against it in the attempt to stop the bleeding. She placed the soldier’s hands under her own to try to make him put pressure on it, but his hands fell limp. She looks at him but his eyes are rolled back in his head.

“H-hey,” Madd says softly, gently trying to shake him awake. Both of their hands are soaked in blood, and he wasn’t moving.

He was dead. She couldn’t save him.

For half a moment, Madd can sense someone behind her before he speaks: “It’s not your fault.”

Madd turns to look at the man, who is now across the field. She could have sworn he was right behind her. She takes a look around and all the other healers seem to have a handle on the surviving soldiers, so she makes her way to the man. He’s sitting on the grass, hands ripping out blades, legs crossed. A large-brimmed hat obscures his face.

“It’s not your fault he died,” the man says. “He was never going to survive his injury.”

Madd sits near him, trying to get a better look at his face. “What makes you say that?”

The man rocks slightly, tucking his chin to his chest. “You knew as soon as you saw his wound he wouldn’t make it. Blood pulsing with every heartbeat, not through, but out. Thoughts fading, vision blurring…”

“I tried to save him,” Madd says defiantly.

“You went through the routine, but you knew he would die,” he says hollowly.

Madd feels anger and embarrassment bubble inside her, but somehow, it’s not directed at him.

“It’s okay,” the man says. “You couldn’t save him. But you tried anyway. You are still trying to find your footing here, after Tevinter, after the Hinterlands…”

“How do you know this?” Madd asks, voice taking on a demanding edge.

“I can see a lot of things,” he says simply.

He lifts his head up--not to look at Madd, but to the sky, then down at the grass again.

 “I’m sorry I made you afraid. I just want to help.”

Madd studies the man for a while. She feels angry, confused, and exposed. How did he know all of this? She looks back over to the other healers and surviving soldiers. She may have failed, but she could still do some good.

“I—”

Madd blinks. After she had turned, the man was gone. Chills went down her spine and she used it as the kick to return her back to the tent.

“Can you help me?”

An elven man is looking up at her. She looks at him, then the soldier below. He is trying to stop bleeding by applying pressure.

“Of course,” she says softly, kneeling to his level and replacing his hands on the soldier’s stomach. The man nods thanks and moves to grab a needle and thread. When he returns, he motions for her to move so he can begin stitching up the soldier.

“It doesn’t seem to be too bad of a gash,” the elf says, “but somewhat deep. The stitches should stop most of the bleeding.”

Madd nods, watching his nimble fingers work, and then examining him. He was working with purpose and vigor, eyes focusing solely on the wound. He had long, dark hair pulled away, into a tight ponytail. It reminded her of Varellan. His ears were large, as were his eyes, dark and reflective. But more interesting were the white lines tattooed on his face.

As he finished, he turned to look back at her, and Madd blushed. She had wanted to be more secretive.  

“It is clear I was once Dalish, isn’t it?” he laughs.

Madd blinks. “I don’t understand,” she says softly.

The elf blinks back. He says something to the soldier Madd doesn’t hear before returning his attention to her. “I used to be Dalish,” he says. “Have you never heard of us?”

She shakes her head.

“Nor vallaslin, then?” He gestures to his face, and she shakes her head again.

“What do you know of the Inquisition?”

“Nothing,” she says honestly, feeling a bit stupid. “It was offered as a refuge.”

The elf gave a low whistle. He opens his mouth to say something, but then he looks above her—someone is approaching.

“Perfect timing,” he says, offering a small smile.

Beside her, a human man crouches down. He has a staff on his back, but no armor—instead, simple but nice clothing. Blonde, blue-eyed, and strong, Madd feels like he’s seen him somewhere before, but can’t place it.

“Ithanir,” the man says. “How are supplies looking?”

The elf shrugs. “Low on elfroot and embrium. Everything else will last.”

The man nods before turning to Madd. “You must be the friend of Dorian,” he says. He holds out his hand. “Torannis Trevelyan.”

“Madd Ceranadin,” she says, returning the handshake. She can’t help but notice the scar on his left palm, which rests on his knee.

“Dropping the title?” Ithanir quips lightheartedly.

Torannis grins, pushing his hair back. “Alright, yes. I also am the Inquisitor.”

Madd scans his face, looking for meaning. Behind Torannis, Ithanir laughs.

“Someone’s always gotta keep you humble.”

Torannis turns slightly to address Ithanir again. He says goodbye to both before leaving.

“Why is he the Inquisitor? I don’t understand,” Madd says. “And what’s with that scar on his hand?”

Ithanir stands, offering his hand to Madd. “It’s a long story. Let’s take a walk and I’ll tell you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“How are you so well known?”

“I’m sorry?”

Madd cracks her knuckles, looking out over the grounds. She and Dorian are seated on the wall of the castle, legs folded. Dorian has his own hanging over the edge, errant heel knocking the bricks. He’s examining the bandaging on his hands and arm, neatly redone since their arrival at Skyhold.

“Your reputation seemed to precede you. The diplomat knew who you were.”

“Mm,” Dorian says. He looks between his feet before upward, past the central castle. “Old work I did when I was an apprentice. But that is neither here nor there.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

Dorian looks at her as she awaits an answer.

“I helped develop time magic, but it didn’t end so well. My mentor joined a cult. Kind of taints everything in the end.”

Madd nods, pulling her knees closer to her chest.

“What did Torannis have to say?”

“The Inquisition will protect us so long as I pledge my service. We are headed to…well, I don’t remember where. But within the week. Please don’t burn the place down in my absence.”

Madd smiles, looking down at all the people walking and minding their own business, tending to their duties. “It feels weird to be safe,” she says finally.

“Enjoy it. Freedom and safety is a rare combination.”

“You, too.”

He looks at her again, nodding.

“Have you met a strange man here? With a large hat?”

Dorian shakes his head. “No. Why do you ask?”

Madd shakes hers. “Nevermind.” Madd spins, planting her feet on the pathway behind her. “I have an elf to talk to.”

Dorian’s face lights up. “So, you’ve met Sera?”

Madd’s brow furrows. “Who? I meant Ithanir, the head healer.”

Dorian smirks. “Go find Sera instead. She’s more fun. I think more you’re her type, too.”

Madd blushes furiously. Dorian sends her one last look before leaving, disappearing into a nearby tower.

 


End file.
